In Hawaii, precise distinctions are made about the character of the sea —the inshore water is kai, the deep blue sea is moana. This house on the Kohala Coast of the Big Island is ideally positioned for access to both—as well as to take advantage of that other Hawaiian blessing, the soft, refreshing wind, makani olu olu. Its site is not far from where the futuristic movie Waterworld was filmed, and it too is water-themed. The water features—waterfalls, pools and a meditation garden with flowing water—are not merely aesthetic enhancements; they also have practical uses, along with sentimental associations. The primary inspirations for them were the owners' passion for sailing and love of Hawaii and its encircling ocean.

The house is sheltered and private and yet also occupies a magnificent vantage point. One of its striking aspects is the way in which it seems part of the pools that surround it. As architect Hugh Huddleson puts it, the house was intended as "a soulful extension of its environment."

"I used the longest diagonal possible to pull your eye across the pool and over the lengths of water to the sea."

"One great way of creating the notion of space is to use water," says the East Hampton, New York-based Huddleson, who collaborated on the design with Warren Sunnland, of the Hawaiian firm Riecke Sunnland Kono Architects. "In Venice," Huddleson says, "you can be 12 feet away from another house and yet feel apart, because of the water in between." And so, on this relatively small site in Hawaii, water creates space, stifles noise and is itself a calming element.

The use of wood and the volcanic stone in the rock wall at the Asian-style gateway, and the glimpse of the mahogany footbridge across the water beyond, promises an experience of entry that offers more inside. It is impossible to build a house next to the ocean and assume that the hard, unforgiving sunlight and the salt air will not seriously affect it. These challenges dictated the materials for the house, which the architect designed to last.

The Zen concept of wabi-sabi—the noble weathering of natural things, like wood and iron and cloth—guided both Huddleson and the California-based interior designer Jacques Saint Dizier. They chose high-quality materials that would age gracefully. This is why the lanais are built of mahogany rather than cedar. And the volcanic rock, which is used throughout the exterior, was positioned to suggest that it might have occurred naturally. Travertine marble was used both inside and outside. The cut blocks for the exterior walls were offset to carve graceful slivers of shadow under the deep eaves.

"The size of the lot was a challenge," Huddleson says. In fact, it is such a modest-size lot that before the owner bought it, he needed Huddleson's reassurance that it could accommodate a house and guesthouse—five bedrooms and six baths altogether. Huddleson came up with the footprint in a day but then took a year to plan and refine the structures. Illusion figured, too: "I used the longest diagonal possible to pull your eye across the pool, so that you look across the lengths of water to the sea."

To make the interior of the house unfussy, even playful and durable, and yet with a certain formality, Saint Dizier chose textured reeds for some of the walls, textural fabrics, even copper leaf. Small bronze tiles are set in the floor of an elegant bath. These are stylized petroglyphs depicting each member of the family's favorite outdoor pursuits—surfing, swimming, tennis and sailing.

The volumes of the high-ceilinged rooms are generous and restful. And the art walls are deliberate. The owner possesses a collection of early paintings of Hawaiian landscapes and seascapes, along with contemporary work, such as the koa-framed panels of tapa (kapa in Hawaiian) by Puanani Van Dorpe that hang in the living room. The paintings and artifacts, says the designer, "make you feel very grounded and Polynesian."

But Saint Dizier admits that Japanese, Chinese, Balinese and Pacific island elements influence the style of his various designs. The masks in one bath are whimsical, but the columns in that same space are in fact old African drums. Elsewhere, rare ceramics and antique bowls are not far from more curious objects—a boat prow or an upright oar. The serene atmosphere is accomplished both by the interiors and by the way the outdoors seems to be part of the inner experience of the house. That is also the effect of water, which is not simply the sight of it falling but the sound of it, the feel of it.

"Hugh came up with the idea of cantilevering the house," Saint Dizier says. "It seems to float."

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